


One Last Try

by Wandering_Stars



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Nipple Play, Pre Overwatch, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_Stars/pseuds/Wandering_Stars
Summary: The Junkers are still in the Outback, and have managed to get Junkrat's top surgery lined up.  If there's a time to be curious, it's now.  Even if it isn't exactly easy.





	

It had been a hell of a long time coming. Jamison stared at the roof of the tent in the dusky orange light, the final dregs of the day draining somewhere outside the open flap, between the stunted mountains on the horizon. Mako's massive form loomed at the tent's center, but his head still brushed against the worn canvas even at its highest point. A long time coming, and just a few hours more. 

He lay on his back, back stretched with his arms folded loose behind his head on a pile of thin sleeping bags where he and Roadie made their nest. He wore the usual shredded remains of what had once been a perfectly respectable pair of shorts, a loose tank top over his chest. And after a few measley, pathetic little hours, after a lifetime of waiting, there'd finally be a little less to cover in that particular spot. 

He wasn't big up there to begin with, thank god. Malnutrition and radiation did not a bountiful body make. Well. With the profound exception of his bodyguard. The usual smirk quirked the corner of Jamison's mouth, eyes crinkling at the memory of Roadhog waiting with him for his pre-surgery checkup. The way the stupid son of a bitch doctor kept eyeing the behemoth of a man between pokes and prods, as if he would pop his head like a watermelon at the slightest mistake. And Jamison was entirely sure that was a valid concern. Exactly as it should be.

But everything had checked out. He'd been given a few medications to take beforehand, some scrub to wash up with, some sterile clothing-- all of which were currently in the dirt somewhere underneath the junker's backpack. He hadn't been sterile since he popped out of his mum's cunt, and he didn't see why he had to be now. He just needed his tits cut off, what was with all the preparation? He'd lost a leg and an arm without taking a bath, so why break a winning streak.

If Mako had an opinion on all that, he kept it to himself. He simply waited beside the smaller junker in the growing shade of the tent, the reflection of the setting sun glaring off the lenses in his mask. It made the blank expression of his mask somehow feel even blanker, his gaze on Jamison in silent expectation. The younger junker was nothing if not a constant stream of noise, and here he was before a life-changer of an event, silent as a doormouse. It was unsettling.

“...Yeah, yeah, I see ya there. Ya got somethin' to say?”

Mako's massive shoulders lifted slightly in a non-committal shrug, before he tipped his head and jerked his chin towards Jamison. No. But you do.

A gold eye squinted a little suspiciously at the bodyguard, and Jamison snorted softly. “You make a hell of an argument,” he grunted. “Just thinkin', you know? About good shit, a' course. Bloody excited t' get somethin' off me chest,” he grinned, showing off every gold tooth he possessed.

Mako exhaled heavily through his mask at what had to be the twelfth time he'd heard that particular crack, moving as if he meant to rise.

“Wait wait wait,” the smaller junker said rapidly, pushing to sit up and waving his hands briefly, as if to clear the air of the bad joke. “Sit with me, I'll nip my damn lip of the jokes for once, right? Just... sit there.”

The guard paused, holding for a moment before he eased back into a resting position. “Something is bothering you,” he grunted, no longer keen on beating around the bush. 

“Yeh, well, gonna get knocked out on a surgery table, mate. Nothin' about that sounds fun,” came the muttered reply. 

“You know I'll be there. Junker docs don't have a lot of sway, to tell me no.” His chin lifted slightly, and he left that as that. The rest went unsaid. So long as I'm there, you're not going to die.

Junkrat eased a little, a hand raking back through the patchy, burnt remains of his hair. He'd live, he knew that. But still. Nerves were high, and questions filled him. “...Ya think I'll still feel anything? You know... after?” he asked, voice a little quieter.

That got Roadhog's attention, eyes flicking to the lanky junker. “Don't know,” came the honest, short answer. “Said sometimes you do, sometimes you don't. Probably for the best anyway. You don't like being touched there.”

Rat's frame shifted uncomfortably at that. He didn't. The stupid things were sensitive-- too sensitive to be very enjoyable, given his discomfort with his chest. Too direct a touch and he was flinching, pushing hands away, every time. 

But just the same... Plenty of girls seemed to love it. He was no girl, but he had the same nerves, didn't he? Felt a little screwed that after all these years, lugging the damn things around, he'd never once gotten an ounce of pleasure out of the bargain.

Maybe just this one, last time. Maybe it was worth a try. 

He looked up to Hog, hesitating a moment, before he unceremoniously lifted off his tanktop and tossed it aside. He was small enough that he never bothered with binding if he was just hanging around camp, his soot-stained skin a little cleaner beneath the protection of the shirt. His chest was pale in contrast to the sun-beaten tone of his shoulders, making the tiny pink-nippled breasts looking even more misplaced on his frame. Pale and soft, on a body that was tan and lean.

Hog stayed still. He didn't look away. The man didn't take his shirt off like that because he wanted privacy. But just the same, he didn't advance. He could be rough, but he had no desire to be pushy with something Rat had shown himself uncomfortable about so many times. “...What're you doing.”

“...Enticin' ya, y' dumb stack a bricks.”

“You look like you're about to shit yourself.”

“I'm fuckin' nervous, alright? Just-- come over here, already. Give 'em a pawing at, one last time. I wanna see if it feels good.”

A husky sigh filtered through the mask, and Roadhog slowly lifted his hand to grab it by the back and pull it off. His scarred old brow was furrowed, thick line of his lips twisted in an uncertain frown. “...You're sure.”

“Yes, I'm fuckin' sure! Look, I'm only gonna have 'em for a couple more hours. I wanna get some use out of the damn things. So just... come here, alright?” The younger man's expression was a little pleading, eyes flicking to Roadhog's face and back to the dirt floor. “...I know I have trouble with it. I'm probably gonna have trouble again. I just... please. Just want one good memory from this, is all.”

And Mako exhaled low. He couldn't deny that. He turned to Rat, closing the distance between them and shifting onto his hip, giving a quiet grunt as he settled in on the pile of thin sleeping bags. Rat was already squirming a little, trying to figure out what position Hog wanted him in, until a massive hand slid up his belly and stopped just at the line of his ribcage, gently pushing him back to lay down. A shiver moved down his spine, his smaller hand gripping Mako's as he eased back and settled. 

His breathing was a little shallow, a mix of nerves and anticipation, and it was obvious. Those tiny breasts rose and fell with each one, Mako's hand pressing a little more firmly. “Breathe from here,” he rumbled low. “Calm down. A deep breath. In...” His hand eased off its pressure, waiting to feel a deeper, fuller breath pressing against his palm. “And out. Slowly.” 

Rat's eyes fluttered closed as he nodded shallowly, falling into the familiar rhythm of his bodyguard's deep voice. In. And out. Air all the way to the deepest part of the lung. It wasn't until he went through the slow rhythm a few times, the breaths steadying, that Roadhog's hand began to move. His slim frame gave a little jolt as thick fingers grazed upwards, tracing the ridges of a too-thin ribcage, before they came to the subtle swell of the underside of a breast. A quiet whimper left him, eyes tightly closed, and that was when he felt Mako's lips against his jaw, just below his ear. A slow, warm kiss. 

“...Breathe.” 

The quiet reminder was little more than a thrum, lips brushing against the lobe of his ear. His breath hitched, but he nodded, making the next a slow, deliberate breath. Thick fingers ghosted over a contour of a breast that shouldn't have been there, but he focused on the lungs beneath. Mako avoided the nipple for now, trailing over the top to settle his massive hand across both breasts, cupping over them as if they belonged to him. They were a soft, warm pressure against his palm, punctuated by the hard little nubs of erect nipples. A low, approving rumble left him, pressing down to flatten them as well as he could for his lover. He could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath his hand, his lips parting to catch his earlobe in his teeth. “...Good boy,” came the low gravel of his voice. “You're doing well.”

The smaller junker squirmed slightly, easing with an unsteady exhale at the words. The man was a sucker for praise, and Hog knew it. Carefully, his hand shifted, thumb dragging up along the side of his breast, slowly, steadily towards the nipple. He stopped before he reached it, the man at his side giving a soft, wordless whimper. Nerves or anticipation, it was hard to tell. But he wasn't going to keep him waiting, long. Gently, he dragged over the tiny pink nub, swirling around it, before he caught it between forefinger and thumb and gave the smallest pinch.

Rat's back snapped into an arch, and he tried to jerk away, Hog's teeth gently catching his earlobe to keep him still. 

“Hoggy--” 

“Calm down.”

“Hoggy, I don't--”

“...Jamison. Breathe in.”

He didn't release the gentle hold on his nipple, staying very still. With a little time, he hoped the shock of the touch would wear away. “Breathe in. Remember why you wanted this.” He held fast, waiting... but after a moment, Rat did as he asked. Slowly, unsteadily at first, he breathed in. And out. The second was a little smoother. 

“...You alright?”

There was a pause. “...Yeah. Yeah, m'alright.”

“You want to keep going?”

The smaller junker nodded, and Mako eased, pressing warm lips against his neck in a slow, tender line. His hand shifted, rolling his nipple between thumb and forefinger gently, drawing the softest whimper from the throat of a man whose volume typically didn't have a setting below shouting.

“...Good,” he breathed, the praise low between kisses. Teeth found his neck, sucking gently to give him some other stimulation to counter the direct touch to his poor breasts. His palm pressed flat, dragging his hand to the other side, and repeating his attentions to the other nipple. He could feel Rat jerk slightly, but there was no protest this time, his voice little more than a soft gasp. 

“Are you wet?” came that heady rumble of a voice. Rat stiffened a little at that, the sound in his throat thinner. “...Enjoying this enough for that? Maybe I should check,” he breathed, his other hand sliding to unceremoniously grip between his partner's legs, broad hand cupped as it forced his legs wider to accommodate him. He still wore those tattered shorts and it was hard to tell for sure, but as he ground his fingers against his mound, he could've sworn he felt something slick between the fabric and the skin beneath.

Now that brought a smile to his lips, a low chuckle leaving him. “You -are- enjoying this,” he purred low. “Evidence is between your damn legs.” Rat shuddered, jaw tightening slightly as he gripped at the sleeping bags beneath him. His cheeks burned, but a thrill was running through him. He didn't deny Mako's words, back arching subtly as he pressed his chest ever so slightly into the larger man's touch. 

That was all the permission the massive junker needed to escalate. He slid down, teeth dragging over skin from neck to collarbone, before his nose buried between those soft little tits. Rat's arms snapped up to wrap around his neck, half to hold him closer and half just to hold him -still-, giving himself a moment before what he knew was coming. Steeling himself, his mismatched fingers gripping in soft silver hair. 

But they had limited time. Mako only spared him a few second before his head turned, tongue dragging over the curve of his breast, before his lips latched onto a nipple. Rat's voice lifted sharply at that, arms snapping back and away to grip at the sleeping bags and pull, all but trying to skitter away under the sudden intensity at his breast. But Mako held fast, sucking gently as his tongue rolled over the trapped flesh. He broke the seal of lips only to utter that husky reminder one more time. 

“ _Breathe._ ”

And he did, but it was coming faster now, no matter how he tried. He squirmed beneath his partner, pegleg catching the corner of the sleeping bags and dragging through the dirt. “Hoggy, Hoggy-- please, I--” 

“What.”

“I can't--”

“Can't what?”

“H-hold--”

And Hog bit gently onto his nipple, the pressure of the suction deepening as his nose buried against the soft flesh of his breast, nuzzling in. His hand ground against the increasingly undeniable wetness beneath the fabric of his shorts, a dull, perfect pressure. Rat's back arched sharply, eyes widening as his lips parted for a hard gasp. And he came. His frame jerked, fingers pulling weakly at the sleeping bag where he gripped it, and his voice broke in a cry he struggled to muffle. 

Hog kept right on until his arched back eased, his muscles falling into overstimulated twitches. Gently, he pulled his head back, dragging his nipple between his teeth with agonizing slowness that drew a last gasp from his partner. His dark eyes met gold, and he gave a small, approving smile, finally letting that little swollen nipple pop from between his lips. He favored the younger man with a subtle nod. “...You did it,” he murmured, praise quiet. “Will this count, as that one good memory?”

For once in his life, Rat couldn't tame his voice into words. He just nodded, breathless and panting, before he reached to drag his hand against Roadhog's jaw, drawing him up and into a feverish kiss.


End file.
